When I think back upon it, I realise that I really had no plan of what I was going to do when. I had a vague idea – meet up with friends, go travelling in a generally clockwise direction around Europe. Then it turned into a generally anti-clockwise direction. Then side-trips were added in – with the Raillons, Cousins, other friends… In the end, I seemed to do two loops of Europe. Well, a loop, swirl and a couple of frills. The point is, the whole travelling without a set plan could well have ended up into an aimless fiasco, but luckily it didn’t. In fact, probably my most spur of the moment decision, namely deciding on a whim to accept the offer of a place to stay in Napoli, Italy, from friends I had only met one night at a hostel in Prague. (Actually I met them the day before my 21st birthday, whilst stressing over the whereabouts of Bec and Tristan, who failed to find the hostel for a number of hours.) Napoli… I thought… Oh yeah, - southern Italy? Hadn’t really thought of going there… but why not! I had, by this stage, realised that travelling by yourself to a city where you know nobody isn’t quite so much fun. Quite stressful too, if you don’t speak the language, can’t find the hostel and don’t know who (or how) to ask for help. So Naples. Sound’s good!
I said as much to my parents. Needless to say, alarm bells started ringing in my mother’s head, but she decided the best course of action would be to let Sophia warn me about the wonders of Napoli. I had already told Sophia I was planning on heading down to Napoli and had asked for some basic Italian phrases to get me out of trouble. I had found, whilst trying to talk to the Italians I had met in Prague, that simply having an Italian dictionary was not enough. I received this from Sophia “Naples sounds like a fabulous idea! just remember to hold onto your handbag/backpack and don't show any jewellery or technology, they're the masters of muggings and pickpocketing. they will get your stuff if you're not careful. no joking. really serious problem.” I thought she sounded serious, especially with the combination of that warning and some of the phrases Sophia thought I would need, including “leave me alone. - lasciami stare.” And “I don't have any coins. non ho moneta.” She did, however, end by saying that she hoped she hadn’t scared me too much. “The neapolitans are a really wonderful warm people, heaps of fun to be around, and if you are hanging out with ‘the natives’ you are much, much safer than the average american bozo.” I figured that was probably a good thing, especially in light of the series of lectures that I was being given from Geney, mostly to the lines of Naples being the ‘black cat of Italy’, its inhabitants all “banditos”, and continually returning back to the question of “but WHY are you going to NAPLES?” given that there are so many more beautiful, better places to go in Italy. “But why NAPLES?” Eventually I managed to get him slightly off my case by giving him the name of the family I was staying with, reassuring him that they were a good ‘upstanding’ family, father a doctor, Valentino himself also studying to be a doctor, and letting him check to see if their address and phone number was registered etc. So you could see that I could have been a little concerned about where I was going.
Given the number of warnings I had received from various reliable sources, I decided not to dismiss them entirely. Luckily, my sudden fears along the lines of ‘I don’t actually know where I’m going or who exactly I’m staying with, and I can’t speak the language enough to get me out of trouble and how do I know that axe murderers aren’t really nice when you meet them for the first time?’ were all completely unnecessary. Valentino and his cousin Ivano who I also met in Prague were at the station to pick me up (the train was only 20 minutes late), and they took me home, through the amazing entity that is Napoli traffic. Cars and buses hurtled down streets winding around what may have once been a square but was now littered with apparently abandoned construction equipment. Scooters threaded through the larger vehicles in furious abandon, seemingly only restrained by barriers, walls and mafia-style street stalls on the pavement. 
After a little more experience in the rather daunting traffic swarm, I realised that although it seems like total and complete chaos, it seemingly works, and could certainly be worse. Paris, for example, was terrifying (not just because of Dan the crazy Man’s night tour) in that the traffic moves. Fast. And, even armed with my new licence, I felt sure I was far too incompetent to even consider the possibility of driving there. Here in Naples, there are no lane 
markings, rarely even lanes, more a see of cars, and scooters. There are stop signs and red lights everywhere, but mostly for decoration. As “suggestions”, as it was explained to me. In most cases people cruise through lights and stop signs, only slowing down a little. Scooters are not even constrained to driving in the direction the rest of the traffic is headed, or even on the right side of the road. Nor even on the road itself. This ‘omnidirectional travel’ also takes place on medians and sidewalks, through squares… pedestrian zones, markets… Even the grounds of the Napoli library (the once palace), as I discovered!
That was certainly a highlight of my week or so in Napoli - Private tours on the back of Valentino's scooter... Yes, first time on a motorbike and yes, I was terrified... but I survived. The first experience went something like this. We were going to a lookout, but had to go via the post office first. I was handed a helmet (I had noticed that most people weren’t using them and was silently grateful that I had one) but when I went to put it on, was told not to yet. I thought we might just be walking round the corner, so… OK.
Then I was instructed to jump on the back of the bike. 
I didn’t have time to think, suddenly I was on the bike, helmet hanging off my arm, holding the bike, terrified that if I let go to put the helmet on, I would fall off. We were, as it happens, going down a steep hill, on a cobble-stone path. (road would be too generous a description!) We eventually stopped at a red light (I was surprised too!) and Valentino told me I could put the helmet on, since because we were entering an area where there were a few police officers), and only felt slightly safer... By the end of the week, I had abandoned all fear, embraced the feeling of the wind in my hair (even with the helmet on) learnt to tuck my legs in when we shot the gaps between cars… and even worked up the courage to film some of it. Good times… good times. :)
Over the week, I was introduced to Valentino’s numerous acquaintances – siblings, cousins, friends, friends of siblings/cousins/friends… and was amazed at how warm and welcoming they were to me, even through a fairly large language barrier. Despite Sophia’s cheat sheet, I found it quite hard to ‘converse with the locals’. This was, as it happens, one reason I hadn’t been planning on travelling much to Italy. With English, French and German, I figured I’d be able to get myself understood in most places in Europe, with the exception of Spain (where I went with Bec and her modest but oh-so-useful Beginners Spanish). So the thought of a week in a place where I couldn’t understand what was going was daunting to say the least. It was, however, actually a lot of fun! 
I did find it a bit scary at times when, over lunch, a stereotypical, Italian, passionate argument (complete with thumping of the wine bottle) seemed to be taking place, but was reassured when they all started laughing spontaneously! I also tried to learn a bit of Italian, the dutiful languages student that I am. By the end of a week I could understand a lot more than I could at the beginning – that’s for sure! I could also occasionally say things, which was cool! Unfortunately, everything I learnt was in a good Napoli accent – especially the vital sentence which, when translated, went something along the lines of “Ivano, you’re a complete idiot and need to learn to drive!” Very useful sentence, actually.
So, by the end of the week, I hadn’t done that much sightseeing – unfortunately didn’t get the chance to go to Capri, - I could have, but it would have been alone, and after travelling round a bit by myself, I had had enough of self-portraits and wandering aimlessly around a new place. I had, however, an authentic “Napoli” experience, which I found much more rewarding. Authentic, I say, right down to developing a taste for coffee. Which reminds me – I’ll leave you with a story which demonstrates, quite painfully one could say, the wonders of a language gap. Italians love their coffee – that much is sure. After every meal, and often before, I was offered an espresso. Eventually I got sick of just saying no, and attempted to explain my reluctance. “I don’t like the taste,” I said, “I just like the smell.” Valentino and Ivano looked at each other, then me, quizzically. “The smell,” I said, making wafting motions towards my nose. After a few repetitions, wondering what they were laughing at, they said ‘OOOOH odour”. I laughed, because they were laughing, and didn’t find out what was so funny for another few days, when Fabio (a friend who spoke English) explained that in the local slang, “schmell” means sperm. Yes. I had explained that I didn’t like the taste, just sperm, whilst making motions to my face. Fun times. Fun times.
That just about does it for Napoli, and for my gastronomic tour of Europe, also known as All Roads lead to Ausfahrt. I jumped on a train that was only two hours late when leaving, and three and a half hours late arriving at it’s destination, and was back in Berlin before I knew it. Then on to Potsdam and back to uni. More trials and tribulations awaited me there!
